


Half a Phoenix (The Out of the Past and Into the Future Remix)

by Redrikki



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Past Child Abuse, Post-Finale, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrikki/pseuds/Redrikki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a lesson to teach.  Ozai and his granddaughter learn a lot from each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half a Phoenix (The Out of the Past and Into the Future Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daymarket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daymarket/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Out of the Past](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137422) by [daymarket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daymarket/pseuds/daymarket). 



Ozai does not turn around as Zuko enters the cell. He never turns. His body hums with anticipation, but he stays where he is, hands folded neatly across his empty desk, his back to the door. His son may call himself Fire Lord, but Ozai is king here and Zuko the supplicant. “So, what brings the Fire Lord before his humble servant today?” 

“Hello, Grandfather,” says an unexpected voice behind him. “I’m Ursa.”

Ozai spins quickly, too shocked to properly control his reaction. He quickly checks himself and rises slowly from his chair. To rule, one must first master one’s self. He glides to the bars and looms over the girl his son has presented for his inspection. 

“So at last you have decided to grace me with her presence,” Ozai says to his son as he studies his granddaughter. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

“I asked him to bring me here,” Ursa tell him sharply. She has pride, this one. He can see it in her stance and the set of her chin. She is fireless and carrying what looks like Kyoshi war fans and yet, she is proud. “I wanted to meet the man I’ve heard so much about.”

“I suppose my notoriety has intrigued you?” Ozai says, smiling at the notion. “It’s been so long. I was afraid the world had forgotten me.” The world will never forget him. He has left his mark on it as indelibly as he left it on Zuko’s face. No one will forget him. Not his son, and not this girl.

Zuko responds as he always doses, flailing about in anger and jumping at shadows. It’s almost too easy, but he must take his pleasure somewhere. The girl’s reaction is interesting, though. She is calm. There is no anger in her face, and no fear. Her expression holds nothing more than polite interest. 

“What would you have done, Grandfather?” she asks. “If you were still Fire Lord, where would the Fire Nation be today?”

Ozai smiles at the question. She really means it, he can tell. Despite all the lies and propaganda she has doubtlessly been fed by Zuko and his cronies, she is interested in hearing his wisdom. He uses the opportunity, not only to share it, but to remind his boy of his place. _You’re a failure,_ he reminds Zuko with every word, every gesture. _I have the power here, and you do not._

“What are you planning?” Zuko rails, falling easily for the bait. “We’ve stopped one of your civil wars. We’ll stop you again.” Ozai watches thoughts and fears race across his son’s face. He’s so afraid, even after all these years. He’ll always be afraid and, even locked up in here like an elephant-rat in a trap, Ozai will always have that.

“You’ve got no power,” Ursa announces out of the blue as though she can see his thoughts. “Words are all you’ve got left; they’re all you can use. You’re saying a lot of stuff, but none of it means anything.” 

Zuko looks absolutely gob smacked at his daughter’s boldness, but Ozai is too practiced at controlling his face to let his eyes widen or his mouth fall open like that. Ozai tilts his head to better study her. The girl stands with her arms crossed aggressively and a small frown on her face. Before she looked like his son, but now he sees Azula in her. The thought makes him smile. “Your father was always disappointingly easy to bait,” he says. “As a child, he lacked strength. As an adult, he lacks wisdom.” 

“And you don’t have either,” Ursa snaps. “You’re just an old bully who’s lost his teeth. Dad and Uncle Aang made sure of that.”

Ozai can feel his rage, the old fire, racing under his skin just out of reach. He thinks about reaching through the bars to slam this brat against them. He images laying his hand across her face and teaching her the lesson her father failed to learn. He should burn her down for daring to speak to him like that. He should break her.

The girl watches him without fear, but Zuko knows how to read the signs. He’s coiled as tightly as a spider-snake, ready to leap to his daughter’s defense. Suddenly, the whole thing makes Ozai laugh; his weak, fearful son and the unexpectedly strong girl he managed to produce. 

“You are very much like your aunt,” he says, feeling strangely proud of his granddaughter. “Words are weapons too, a subtle art that your father has never managed to pick up. It’s a shame that you’re useless. The Fire Nation needs a Fire Lord who is strong in all areas. You know, when your father was born, I considered disposing of him,” He tells this the girl, but locks eyes with his son. “He lacked the firebending spark when he was young, and I’m not surprised in the least that he passed that failure onto you. If only I hadn’t been so merciful.”

Zuko’s reaction is, as expected, satisfying, especially with his daughter as a witness. His hands tremble with rage and his flame flares erratically as he shouts. He may look an adult and wear the robes of a Fire Lord, but here he is always a child. 

Ozai smiles in triumph as Zuko drags Ursa from the cell. Words are the only weapon Ozai has left in their little war and he wields them well. He has won this battle. He always does. 

****

It is late in the evening when the door to his cell opens again. He is lying on his back on his pallet, gazing at the night sky through the bars on his window. Ozai smiles as he hears the keys in the lock and runs the possible scenarios in his head. Is he to be reprimanded for upsetting the princess, or is there some crisis the boy wants to talk through? 

“So, you’re back,” Ozai drawls. He doesn’t roll over. He never rolls over. He can hear the sloshing of tea in the pot. Ozai is king here and Zuko the supplicant.

“Yes, I am,” Ursa says.

Once again, Ozai finds himself reacting to her presence before he can stop himself. He smiles languidly to make up for it. “Your father used to bring me tea when he proved too weak to rule without doubt,” he says, nodding to the teapot. He wonders if this is start of a new tradition. The prospect is thrilling. Molding this girl into a weapon against her father will be at least as satisfying as taunting Zuko in what is left of his face. 

“And did you rule without doubt?” Ursa asks as she pours the tea with care and precision. Ozai comes to sit before her and accepts the cup she passes him through the bars.

He takes a moment to savor the vapors wafting from the cup before taking a sip. The blend is unfamiliar but excellent. The girl has been schooled by Iroh, no doubt. His brother, the once proud general, serves tea to Earth Kingdom peasants now. How the mighty have fallen. Ozai takes a second sip before answering the question. “A Fire Lord must always rule without doubt.” He considers the girl seated on the far side of the bars. “When I learned you had no fire, I thought you were worthless, and yet…”

“And yet?” Ursa asks, sipping her own tea. 

“And yet, here you are, in the dead of night, bringing me tea,” he says, toasting her with the cup. “You saw the wisdom of my words and you came back.” This girl will be his legacy. He will shape her to his will and she will restore him to his proper place in the world.

Ursa smiles gently. “Uncle Iroh says that everyone has something to teach,” she says. “I’ve learned so much from the people in my life. I’ve learned about balance and restraint.” She strokes the Kyoshi braid on her wrist. “About trust and teamwork.”

Ozai gives her words the sneer they deserve. “You’ve learned about weakness. You’ve learned how to limit yourself. You’ve learned to limit our nation to what scraps of power your father’s misrule has left.” He leans towards her, his voice rising without him meaning to in his excitement. “I will teach you what _real_ power is.” 

“You will teach me about power,” Ursa laughs in his face and Ozai recoils as though she slapped him. “You called yourself the Phoenix King. Do you know what a phoenix does? It burns itself. You and your war burned through our nation's resources, it killed generations of soldiers and without the colonies you were prepared to burn we wouldn’t have been able to feed ourselves let alone have coal for our ships and factories. You burned us up,” she says with quiet intensity. “You burned your family up.”

“It was worth it,” Ozai snarls. He slams down his cup, shattering it and sending a geyser of hot tea into the air. “The world was mine,” he shouts, “Mine to burn. If it wasn’t for your traitor father and his precious Avatar-”

“-You would have been king of an ash heap,” she coolly interrupts him. “I,” Ursa says, rising like a bird taking flight, “I will be ruler of a prosperous nation. One my father built on the ruins you left behind. The phoenix is burned and reborn from its ashes, but you’re still trapped in yours.” She looms over him, leaving him pinned to the floor in shock. “No more bending, no more throne, nothing. You’re a failure, Ozai,” she says in scathing tones that remind him eerily of his father. “A failure.”

She looks down in judgment upon him and Ozai trembles with rage. He has never wanted to kill anyone quite so much in his life. How dare she? How dare this slip of a useless girl say the things _no one_ has said to him since before he killed his father? His jailers are afraid to look him in the eye and even Zuko can be made to flee with a harsh word. This is his kingdom and she has no right. 

“You’re right, grandfather,” she says with a triumphant smile. “Words are useful.” She bows politely, like a student to a teacher. “Thank you for your wisdom. You’ve shown me just what sort of ruler I want to be.” She turns to leave, tea tray left on the floor in favor of a dramatic exit. 

“And what sort is that?” Ozai asks in hope of derailing her. He can still win this battle. 

Ursa pauses at the door and glances back. “The other half of the phoenix,” she says and swans out the door, leaving him alone in ashes.


End file.
